Ran across the following -

See the happy moron,
he doesn't give a damn.
I wish I were a moron:
My God, perhaps I am.

R. Fairchild

I'm sure there are other similarly pithy offerings out there but can't recall any. Anyone?

I like this parody of Wendy Cope by Clare Pollard

And another bloody thing

Bloody men are like bloody cigarettes
A habit you swear you’ll crack
Then you find you’ve snuck out of the office
To suck one off round the back


Are all women from Bolton like this?

Given the ethnic make-up, I very much doubt it.
Why - were you planning to move there?

From an 'anonymous source'

I hate the metric system,
But the stable door's now shut.
What twaddle those in Brussels sprout.
I fear for what they've got afoot.

Recognise the style?

Not really taken off this thread

Here are three by a woman poet. Points for naming her

By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.

I like to have a martini,
Two at the very most.
After three I'm under the table,
after four I'm under my host.

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Romania.

What a sheltered life I've led - never ran across Dorothy Parker before, but now I've found her (for which many thanks) I'm not going to let her go. Wonderful!

It's not short but it is sharp and makes me laff especially when sung by Kate Rusby

The Yorkshire Couple

Its of a Yorkshire couple, this story I'll relate,
Who waited on retirement with apprehension great.
In their little mill tied cottage, said Amos feeling low,
We've to leave this house tomorrow, wherever shall we go.
Wherever shall we go, wherever shall we go.
We've to leave this house tomorrow, wherever shall we go.

Said Martha unto Amos, well don't you fret old lad,
The thought of your retirement, it ought to make you glad.
Since the minute we got married I've saved for a rainy day,
Each time that we made love I put half a crown away.
Do you see that row of cottages, down by Dog and Gun,
We hadn't been married but a year before I'd bought first one,

The second two years later, the third it brought me tears,
The fourth one took much longer, over twenty years.
Said Amos unto Martha, you know I love you so,
And now I see the wisdom of reaping what you sow.
But one thing vexes me though, why did you never tell,
If I hadn't of played away, I'd have had Dog and Gun as well.

Said Martha unto Amos, well you know I love you dear,
But when you said you were working late, well I knew where you were.
D'ye remember our old milkman, the one that were such fun,
Well I did the same wi' him, and I bought him Dog and Gun.

Yes I have heard this by Kate.
a woman who can make me laugh but more easily make me weep. Very much appreciated.

This is short and it makes me smile It is by Jacques Prevert

Alicante

Une orange sur la table
Ta robe sur le tapis
Et toi dans mon lit
Doux présent du présent
Fraîcheur de la nuit
Chaleur de ma vie

This is a gag a minute; loved the French one especially. It just rolls off the tongue with its play on homophones. I will also look up Dorothy Parker (I know the name well from something!). Isobel, please explain the 'ethnic make-up of Bolton women'. I don't get the joke, and I feel left out.

It's not really a joke Cynthia - just an observation. Bolton has a high immigrant population and a significant number of muslim women. I think it highly unlikely they would be giving favours behind the bike sheds as they are normally brought up with a strict moral code.

The joke, if there were any, was on E Dowd... but he hasn't responded to it so I must have an odd sense of humour.

Clare Pollard comes from Bolton. Sadly I have never been to Bolton

I think we've deduced that. Have you ever been whisked out of the office for a quick ciggie though?

Don't answer that - I'm being flippant again and totally off topic.

If I should die, think only this of me
That in some corner of a foreign field
There lies a plagiarist

Derek Alder

Your a good man really.

More people should read Bill Greenwell

This is just one example more can be found by following the link

The octecho is a deceptively simple iambic tetrameter rhyming ababcdcd, with this twist: the d rhyme also appears through the poem on the first syllable of the first line, second of the second, and so on, while the b rhyme appears on the fifth syllable of the first line, sixth of the second, and so on, reverting to the first of the fifth, and concluding on the fourth of the eighth. Its scheme can be represented thus:
d 2 3 4 b 6 7 a
1 d 3 4 5 b 7 b
1 2 d 4 5 6 b a
1 2 3 d 5 6 7 b
b 2 3 4 d 6 7 c
1 b 3 4 5 d 7 d
1 2 b 4 5 6 d c
1 2 3 b 5 6 7 d
If sunset strikes and you're asleep,
A stiff upon some band of sand,
A pontiff sur la plage, tanned deep,
It makes no difference. The grand
Fandango wheels, shifts like the tides.
Trepanned, you doze, yet sniff no whiff
Of life. Stand, see how surf drifts, glides -
Time smacks its hands upon the cliff.

http://www.billgreenwell.com/index.htm

deceptively simple!!! How many have ever been written?

Too Many!

The deceptive simplicity of the iambic tetrameter is much spoken of in the hostelries of Bolton or, more specifically, on the smoking terraces attached thereto, though explaining how the twist of having the d line appear through the poem in the first syllable of the first line, second of the second, and so on, while the b rhyme appears on the fifth syllable of the first line, sixth of the second, and so on, reverting to the first of the fifth, and concluding on the fourth of the eighth, is rendered more difficult by frequent interruptions for the inhalation of tobacco smoke, and comments on the implied chauvinism in some of Prévert's odes. Don't you find?

I wonder if more people have gone to Bolton sadly than have left in such condition.

HA HA HA!

Killing myself laughing here!